


because i haven't got one anymore

by itsdunk



Series: i never, never want to go home [2]
Category: Mean Streets (1973)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Period-Typical Transphobia, and i wrote this, i was... sad, it'll get better though, johnny is 19 charlie is 21
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-03 10:34:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14567133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsdunk/pseuds/itsdunk
Summary: oh, please don't drop me homebecause it's not my home, it's their home, and i'm welcome no moreset eight years before the events of the movie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [someoriginalusername](https://archiveofourown.org/users/someoriginalusername/gifts).



> i was ? feeling not good and i just started writing this. maybe i shouldn't have posted it but now it is Here. maybe i'll do a follow up soon

Charlie woke up when he heard someone banging on his front door. His eyesight was blurry, and his chest felt heavy due to the lack of sleep, but he still pulled himself out of bed to yell at the bastard who had woken him up. He yawned, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, stretching his arms as he walked to the living room, turning on the light as soon as his arms came down from their stretch.

 _What time is it?_ He wondered, looking at the clock hanging on the wall behind the couch. _Three in the morning? Who the fuck is knocking at this time?_

The person knocked again, and Charlie approached the door carefully.

“Who is this?” He asked, placing a hand on the doorknob and the other on the chain.

The person doesn't reply immediately, and Charlie considers leaving and going to bed again, his hand already dropping from the chain; but he stops in his tracks when he hears the person's voice. “It’s- It's me. Johnny.” His friend’s voice is a little muffled, and Charlie sighs in relief. He pulls the chain to the side and opens the door, but his heart stops when he sees his friend.

Johnny has a black eye and a _lot_ of bruises on his cheek, jaw and neck; he notices that the red marks on his neck look like fingers. His lip is split, and his white shirt is ripped and stained with blood in some places; Charlie can see the bandages he has wrapped around his chest through the holes the shirt has. He’s also holding a traveling bag, Charlie notices; but he can ask about that later.

“Fuck, Johnny, what happened to you?" He doesn't reply, and Charlie notices his eyes start to water, and his heart breaks a little. "Come in.” He says, moving to the side as Johnny steps inside the apartment, brokenly mumbling _thanks_  before he drops down on the couch. Charlie closes and locks the door, before sitting beside Johnny and taking his right hand, but he flinches and removes it from Charlie's reach. Charlie feels concern bubbling in his stomach; of course Johnny had gotten into fights in the past, but he had never seen him so scared and hurt before.

“What happened to you? Who did this?” He asks, and Johnny just stares at the floor, and Charlie can see tears trailing down his cheeks. “Johnny? Sweetie?”

He doesn’t reply at first, sniffling and letting more tears run out, until he finds his voice again. “Pops. He… he got to the mail first in the morning. A letter from the doctor was there, and he read it. Waited until I got home to… well. Locked me in my room after the beating, I had to break the window to get out" He gestured towards his face and body, and Charlie noticed his knuckles and the palm of his hands were cut in various places, too. Charlie can see there's still some pieces of glass in the wounds. Johnny goes silent again, his left hand clenched into a fist, and Charlie reached out again; this time, Johnny allowed him to hold his right hand. “He said I would never be a man and I sure as hell would never be his son.”

“Johnny, I… I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“I grabbed the important stuff before breaking the window.” He looks at the bag.”The money I was saving is there, and some of my clothes too, but… I think he’s gonna get rid of the rest of my stuff. I can never go back.”

Johnny’s full-on crying now, the dried blood on his face washing off in streaks with the tears, and he allows Charlie to pull him into his arms. Johnny holds onto him weakly, and it takes him a while to calm down, staining Charlie's shirt with red splotches. His breathing is heavy, and his chest is rising and falling with difficulty.

“And your mama? She was there, she said anything?”

“The noise took her out of her sewing room, but she didn’t even look at me when pops told her why he was doing it, Charlie. She didn’t even try to stop him, she just… she fucking left me there.” Johnny gripped Charlie tightly, breaking into loud sobs again.

“Fuck ‘em, then." Charlie said, sinking a hand into Johnny's hair to caress it slowly. "You don’t need them. You have me.” Johnny pulled back to look at him, and Charlie placed a hand on his cheek, careful to not harm him more as he wiped the tears from his face. “You can stay here as long as you need. I don’t care.”

“Charlie, I can’t do that. I’d be asking for too much, and-”

“Bullshit. We’ve been looking out for each other ever since we were kids, Johnny. I’d be a piece of shit if I didn’t let you stay here.” Johnny hides his face in his chest again, and Charlie holds him tightly. They sit like that for a few minutes, rocking back and forth, until Johnny whispers _thank you_ against Charlie’s skin.

“C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

* * *

 Charlie had helped Johny strip to his boxers, and he had done the same. Johnny's old clothing had gone into the trash, and his bandages were folded and placed on top of Charlie's bed. Johnny waited outside of the shower as Charlie adjusted it, checking it was warm enough for him, and soon Charlie was satisfied with the temperature.

"Here, Johnny. Come in." He held out his hand, and Johnny took it, stepping into the shower and leaning into Charlie. Johnny was taller than him, something he always teased Charlie about, but he was resting his forehead on Charlie's shoulder so they were almost at the same height. 

"I'm here, sweetie." He mumbled to Johnny, as he lathered his back with soap, focusing on massaging his shoulders carefully so he relaxed into the touch. The warm water helped, too, and soon the white titles of the shower floor were tinted with pink. He washed the sides of his torso, his chest and his arms, flinching whenever Johnny winced in pain because he brushed over a bruise.

When that happened, he made sure to kiss Johnny's cheek, apologizing quickly until he relaxed again.

"Sweetie, lift your head. Please." Charlie whispered to him, nudging Johnny's shoulder with his hand. The other man stood up straight, and Charlie raised his hands to wash his neck and face carefully. "Thank you, Johnny." He took his time washing his hair, too, until he could thread his fingers through it without feeling knots.

Charlie washed the remaining soap off of Johnny, before turning off the water. He quicky grabbed a towel, drying Johnny's hair and face before wrapping it around him. "Leave your briefs here, they got wet. I'll wash them tomorrow, yeah?"

Johnny nodded, reaching down, and a few seconds later his boxers dropped down. He stepped out of them and went to Charlie's bedroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind him. Charlie dropped his own underwear, grabbing another towel to dry himself before wrapping it around his hips, following Johnny.

He got to the room to see him looking around his closet. He was shirtless, but he was already wearing a pair of Charlie's flannel boxers. "My biggest shirts are on the right side." He told Johnny, before going to a cabinet on the other side of the room to grab underwear for himself. 

"Thank you." Johnny said, quietly, before moving to the far side of the closet and pulling out a white undershirt. He slipped it on, and he let out a sigh of relief when he noticed the shirt swallowed his chest nicely.

Charlie smiled when he saw him, slipping on a black shirt he had laying around before approaching Johnny again. He took him in his arms gently, and Johnny hugged him back, closing his eyes and sighing.

"Can we sleep now, Charlie?" He asked, and Charlie nodded. He let go of Johnny to turn off the lights, and when he looked back, Johnny was already lying in bed. Charlie went to the bed, lying behind Johnny and wrapping an arm around him. He pressed a kiss to the back of Johnny's neck. 

"Sleep tight, sweetie." He whispered, and Johnny pushed back against him, mumbling  _good_ _night_ before closing his eyes. Charlie looked at him, until he fell asleep.

Johnny tried, but he couldn't fall asleep for more than a few minutes. He jolted awake each time, feeling watched, and the healing cuts on his hands itched and kept him distracted from resting.

Eventually, the morning came, and Johnny was thankful it was Sunday. He tried to fall asleep again, Charlie snoring lightly behind him, and he, eventually, fell asleep for a couple of hours; but his dreams were plagued with violence, and he woke up feeling more tired than how he felt before sleeping; both physically and emotionally.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i Finally finished this! heck yeah

Johnny doesn’t speak a lot for the following days.

Usually, you couldn’t get him to shut up, especially when he was with Charlie; but now, whenever they ate together in Charlie’s apartment, Johnny didn't speak and Charlie was the one who talked for the two of them. He didn't eat a lot, and, due to the bags under his eyes, Charlie notices he hadn't been getting a lot of sleep, either.

He’s worried, but Johnny brushes it off whenever Charlie asks, saying _it’s just work_ or _I’ll sleep better tonight._ He’s lying, they both know it, but Charlie doesn’t want to press Johnny; he’s already having a hard time without Charlie stressing him out more.

At least, he always comes home, _sober,_ and in time, so Charlie knows he isn’t drinking his sorrows at any bar downtown.

This goes on for a few weeks, the only highlights of Johnny’s mood happening when they go to the doctor so he gets his treatment, and Charlie feels at peace when Johnny smiles at him when he gets his shot.

But then they get home, and Johnny goes quiet again, sinking into the couch and looking at the ceiling. Charlie doesn’t know what to do, but he gives Johnny his space to avoid overwhelming him. There are days in which he doesn’t want no one to touch him, and there are days in which he just sits on Charlie’s lap and stays there, unmoveable.

The only times they are away from each other are when they’re working; Johnny down in the docks, moving crates; and Charlie with his uncle, running errands and collecting the money various people owe his uncle around town.

Charlie always got home first, so he cooked dinner for the two of them, sitting and waiting on the table until he heard the clinking of keys and the lock turning, and he jumped to his feet to greet Johnny everytime.

One night, though, the door never opens. He never hears the keys, or the lock turning.

The plates with food are already cold, and Charlie stared at the clock every few minutes, until it’s nine o’clock and Johnny isn’t home.

“Where is he?” He mumbles, sitting up and heading for the coat rack. He slides on his trenchcoat, before grabbing his own set of keys and heading outside. He runs down the stairs, almost crashing into an old lady, before going out into the streets.

He checks every bar, and every alley, but he doesn’t see Johnny. He even goes down to the docks, thinking that _maybe_ he was doing an extra shift; but there are no trucks, no boats, and everything is closed down. His heart is beating out of his chest now, and he decides to return home. _Maybe he just visited his aunt. Maybe he's back home already._

Charlie rushes back, and he stops by Johnny’s aunt’s apartment. His aunt and his cousin, Teresa, are the only members of Johnny’s family who still talk to him, so it wouldn’t be strange for him to visit them. Charlie gets to the right floor on their apartment building, and he knocks on the door quickly. Teresa, in her nightgown, opens the door for him.

“Sorry for bothering you, I know it's late, but- Have you seen Johnny? I can’t find him anywhere, and he hasn’t gotten to home yet.”

Teresa shakes her head, leaning into the door frame. “He hasn’t visited us since last saturday. I’m sorry, Charlie." She looks genuinely sorry, and Charlie feels fear creeping up his back "Have a good night.” And the door is closed again.

“Fuck. Fuck!” He says, stomping his feet down on the floor before rushing outside again. He returned to his apartment, already starting to feel sick due to the preoccupation.

But when he opens the door, the first thing he sees is Johnny sitting at the table, eating his steak and vegetables as if he hadn’t gotten home almost _three_ hours late.

“Hey, sweetie.” Johnny says after swallowing, smiling at Charlie, who is looking at him, dumbfounded.

“Fuck, Johnny. Where were you? I was worried sick, you- You son of a-” He closed the door behind him, before approaching Johnny and hugging him tightly, before letting go of him so he can sit down again.

“I was taking care of some business, nothing to worry abo-”

“I worry, idiot. I thought you were fucking-” He looks down, and he notices Johnny’s knuckles are bleeding, his hands tainted with dirt and blood. “Johnny. What were you doing?”

Johnny cuts another piece of his cold steak, before putting it into his mouth and chewing. “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Eat, Charlie, it’s delicious.” He says, swallowing as he finishes the sentence. Charlie stares at him, trying to get a clue of what happened from his face, but Johnny’s peaceful expression is hard to break down. Soon, he gives up, and he eats his food in silence.

They don’t do much afterwards, and Johnny refuses to tell him what he did. Soon, both men are showered and changed for bed, and Johnny seems… _enthusiastic_ to sleep.

Charlie lays down beside him, kissing his neck before wishing him a good night. Johnny turns around, curling into Charlie’s chest and hooking a leg around his, before kissing him on the lips and sighing. He wishes him a good night, and soon, both men are asleep.

For the first time in almost a month, Johnny’s dreams are quiet.

* * *

The next morning, Charlie wakes up to someone knocking on the door again. Johnny is still asleep, so he doesn’t bother him, slipping out of the bed carefully. He opens the door to see a worried Teresa, and he raises an eyebrow.

Before Charlie can even ask, Teresa is already talking.

“Someone attacked Johnny’s father last night. He was coming home from the bar when someone jumped him on an alley.” She says, sorrow in her voice. “His jaw, his nose, his legs- _Everything_. Broken. He’s in the hospital now, the doctors are trying to hold him together. I thought- I thought you should know.”

Charlie knows he’ll have to go to confession later, because he thinks _good. He got what he deserved_. But, externally, he just nods and thanks Teresa. He closes the door, and heads back to the bedroom.

Johnny is still laying down, but he’s awake.

“Who was that?” He asks, yawning, as Charlie gets into bed with him.

“No one, no one.” Charlie cups Johnny’s face, looking at his rested expression, and he kisses him on the lips. He knows it was him who did it, but he doesn’t care. Johnny could have killed the man and he wouldn’t shed a tear.

Johnny smiles at him, and Charlie caresses his face. “It’s saturday. Go back to sleep, yeah?” The other man nods, nuzzling his face against Charlie’s neck before he’s breathing deeply again, and Charlie just holds him.

 _Justice was served_ , he thought and that was enough to make him smile again.

They don’t mention what happened that friday night ever again. They don’t even think about whatever happened to Johnny’s dad after that night.

  
Johnny is safe now, he’s _happy_ , and that's all that matters to Charlie.


End file.
